


DFM Like I'm Your Wife

by Nebulad



Series: Mind Over Murder [2]
Category: Saints Row
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Mild Sexual Content, super mild tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 06:10:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8434660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nebulad/pseuds/Nebulad
Summary: “The fuck are you doing at Thunder Pump anyway?” she asked. There was a telltale click of her door closing.“Shopping.”“That’s gross man,” she scolded. “Don’t we fucking pay you enough that you ain’t gotta eat gas station hot dogs?” The radio blared for a moment before she shut it down, apparently ready to stay on the phone with him. He would suggest using bluetooth if he thought she knew how to set it up.“Before you get here— is this about the tiger?”“Oh no Angel. Totally unrelated to the fucking tiger you put in my fucking car.”





	

Angel didn’t realise Fang knew how to set individual ringtones until his phone was playing a song he didn’t know. _“Where the fuck are you?”_ she hissed as he answered.

“Where do you think?” It’d sounded like an Aisha song, but he wasn’t an authority on the subject. He’d ask someone else later— Shaundi seemed to know just enough to be knowledgeable, but as Pierce had informed him, _never enough to beat out what Gat and the Boss know._

“ _Don’t fucking move.”_ The phone clicked and he shrugged, jamming it back in his sweater. It took her twenty minutes to call back. _“Angel where the fuck are you?”_

“Thunder Pump,” he said, frowning at the shelves. They’d stopped stocking his beer and replaced it with something even cheaper. He had money now— in protest he _could_ go to an actual beer store, but after this long he was used to the bottled piss he’d already been drinking.

“ _Why didn’t you fucking say that when I asked the first time?”_

“I asked you where you _thought_ I was, and you hung up. I assumed you knew.” He hadn’t, but he’d successfully wasted twenty minutes of her time.

“ _The fuck are you doing there anyway?”_ she asked. There was a telltale click of her door closing.

“Shopping.”

“ _That’s gross man,”_ she scolded. _“Don’t we fucking pay you enough that you ain’t gotta eat gas station hot dogs?”_ The radio blared for a moment before she shut it down, apparently ready to stay on the phone with him. He would suggest using bluetooth if he thought she knew how to set it up.

“Before you get here— is this about the tiger?”

“ _Oh no Angel. Totally unrelated to the_ fucking tiger you put in my fucking car.”

“You’re missing the point.”

“ _Sorry, been slow to the fucking uptake since I crashed head-on into a fucking animal welfare van chasing me. And then got mauled by a fucking tiger for slowing down.”_ He gave the off-brand cereal a _look_ that she couldn’t see.

“Don’t lose the message in the method. You mastered your fear,” he reminded her. He’d definitely heard some possibly-delirious (but still valid) thank-yous after everything was said and done. Apparently giving it a day or two made it easy to forget.

“ _That’s cool. I’m literally going to kill you when I find you, Angel.”_ If she was, it was stupid to warn him; not that he’d run, but in general. _“Where the fuck did you even get a tiger?”_

“Does it matter?”

“ _Yes?”_ He heard her pull up outside and hung up, moving back to the beer cooler to make sure he hadn’t missed his brand. The teenager who worked behind the counter didn’t look particularly thorough so maybe… Of course, Fang’s heels clicking against the floor made it hard to focus, and eventually he just gave up and turned to watch her approach. “Did you just fucking hang up on me?” she asked.

“Were you not done talking?”

“I asked a fucking question you absolute fucking— what the fuck is wrong with you?” she demanded, and he gestured over to the cashier who looked ready to slam the panic button and dive behind the counter. “Look I don’t give a fuck about—”

“Just drive me to the gym and shout at me there.” For a couple of seconds she looked like she was going to actually kill him, for his gall or the whole tiger thing, but eventually she turned and started off towards her Raycaster. She hadn’t brought the Neuron which was really indicative of her mood.

He slid into the passenger seat silently, ignoring the way she slammed her door and cut off the radio before it could even start in earnest. She took off hard enough to alarm the cop hanging around outside, but was gone too fast for him to cause a fuss which left Angel sitting in the front seat and waiting for her to start the fight again. “You could fucking say sorry,” she snapped.

“What did you _think_ training was going to be like?” He was trying to sound indifferent because it annoyed her when he managed to stay calm, but he couldn’t quite land it. She wasn’t training to go head to head with Matt Miller and as someone so hilariously removed from Killbane’s weight class and skill level, she had to be tried by fire if she wanted to survive.

“I thought when you brought in the wild animals _I would be warned.”_

“If I’d warned you, would you have gone?” he asked as she slid around a corner.

“No because you put a live tiger in my _fucking car,_ Angel.”

“I’m aware. It didn’t fight me, because I’ve mastered my fear.” And so had she if she’d just quit complaining about it for four seconds and examine what the trials had taught her.

“Pretty tough talk from someone who’s been hiding from Killbane in a broken down casino for how many fucking years?” His teeth snapped together audibly and she turned to glare at him. “Don’t even fucking start with me, I swear to _god—”_

“Pull over.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“ _Pull over.”_

“No, you don’t get to make this about you now—” His hand moved to the handle and he wasn’t _near_ bluffing, so she spun to a stop in front of the gym. He got out before she’d braked fully, storming back to his hiding place to go punch a fucking hole in a punching bag. He didn’t _hide—_ he wasn’t like her. No simple _revenge_ would do, no ball dropped from fifty stories up on top of Killbane’s body. _Death_ wasn’t revenge, just the end of it. Forgive him for not being a bloodthirsty animal with an RPG.

Of course he felt like his jaw was clenched so tight that it was wired shut, so he neglected to say anything out loud. Of course, she followed him despite the silence. He wasn’t even positive his contributions to conversations were noted, few and far between as they were. He usually liked that he didn’t have to keep up with her to be present, but he didn’t feel like watching this fight unfold while she got angrier.

“Would you fucking _listen?”_ She struggled to dig her way through the chairs, while he just ploughed through them. _Weight class,_ but would she listen to reason? Why bother when you had a gun that could blow up a helicopter from the ground? Fuck all of his careful planning and _years_ of imagining how he’d win back his reputation. “That isn’t listening.”

He stopped dead and she caught herself on him trying to stop while jumping a chair. “Fighting Killbane isn’t like fighting a real gang boss. He isn’t concerned about taking the coward’s way out or playing dirty, and you might _think_ you know what he’s like but you don’t. If you want to survive fighting someone with a _very specific_ skillset who outranks you in height, weight, and shitty attitude, then you have to be ready. No amount of standing in here and doing push-ups is going to help. You don’t have to _like_ me, but if you want to live then you’ll listen.” He still felt like breaking a fucking table, which was as uncomfortable as it ever was. He didn’t _like_ being angry, and there was no _point_ to being angry at her.

She took a few steps back, scowling. “It isn’t that I don’t like you Angel—”

“You have an _odd_ way of showing that.” The _hiding_ comment hung between them for a second and he watched as she hit her absolute limit.

“ _You_ have a way of just _pissing me off_ for no _fucking reason,”_ she snapped, shoving his shoulder.

He shoved her back.

She absorbed that with a breath that was audible, then before he could tell her to get out she lunged at him like she was a foot taller than she was in heels. He staggered back, catching them both on one of the blackjack tables and sending it skidding backwards. She’d wasted all her anger on that gesture— she wasn’t going to attempt to actually fight him or even hit him. _No point,_ he thought. He wasn’t Loren and she wasn’t Killbane. Neither of them were as unbearable as the other claimed.

“Get off.” She was sitting on him, her full weight dedicated to keeping him pinned against the table.

“Quit fucking antagonising me then. You’re doing it on purpose,” she accused, her hands pushing back on his shoulders like she wasn’t sure she was actually keeping him down. She was, not only because she was heavier than he’d given her credit for, but also because he’d have to physically remove her and he wasn’t going to do that.

“It doesn’t take much.” As if she didn’t realise how intrusive her whole presence was on his life. He’d barely spoken to another person since being unmasked, and suddenly Fang was in his house and texting him during meetings and sending him pictures of cars she was fixing up. Suddenly the gym wasn’t silent except for when he was out of it, at another Saints party because she didn’t like the quiet in headquarters. All at once he had contacts in his phone and a makeup bag in one of his drawers because _what the fuck else you gunna do with the space, Angel? It’s lipstick, I’m not moving in, relax._

He didn’t hate it.

He just… didn’t know what to do with it. Didn’t know how to deal with her.

Fang’s grip on his shoulders tightened and something shifted so that for a split second he forgot that he was angry. It was fleeting but hard to shake off as she kept her blunt nails clenched through his sweater. “What the fuck is it about you?” she asked, but he wasn’t positive that she was still angry either. He didn’t answer because it _wasn’t him._ It was her and the lipstick in his drawer and the heels against his legs and the nails in his shoulders. He reached out because she wasn’t doing anything to hold his hands in place, trailing it up her back. He thought, _I could flip her and catch her weight on my arm._ Wouldn’t hurt her but might start the fight again.

She gave him this _look_ when his hand stopped and maybe he wouldn’t even bother. It wasn’t a look like she was irritated or even realised that he’d meant to get on top; more like she was just as aware as he was that her shirt was thin and his hand was just _there,_ his fingertips on her spine. “You teasin’ me, big guy?” she asked, her voice low and warm and closer than it’d been before. She was trying for a joke but she just sounded kind of breathless.

He wasn’t, although he wasn’t really clear on what he _was_ doing anymore. Thought processes paused as he brought himself up on his elbows, her grip on his shoulders kinder and looser than before. _This_ was what it was about her, that for all the tough shit attitude and teasing and unrelenting flippancy, he _still_ thought about this and couldn’t help himself. There was no force on earth to stop anyone from stabbing him in the back— Eddie had proved that— but he _still_ thought about her. He _still_ saved the pictures of cars she sent and he _still_ sent texts full of emojis back at her and he _still_ got a vanity to shove in the corner of his room because his sink didn’t have space for her to lay out all the makeup she used.

“You gunna let me kiss you, Angel?” she asked. He couldn’t decide what she was thinking— he knew why he was doing this, but who the fuck knew why she did anything. _She_ probably wasn’t even sure, but there they were and if she wanted to go ahead then so did he.

He said so, hoping the _yeah_ didn’t sound as breathy as he thought it did. He caught her grin before she kissed him, all teeth and victory. A lot of stuff ran through his mind all at once— hoping her lipstick didn’t smear all over his face, then kissing down her neck and telling himself that she probably had something to keep it from rubbing off, both his hands sliding down to her thighs and wondering if she usually slept with lieutenants or if he was a weird first— but the last really coherent thought that went through his head was _not on the blackjack table._

She laughed when he picked her up though, so he didn’t bother stopping.

. . . . .

Angel slept deep, which Fang found out after hanging overtop of him for a full minute. She figured just the weight would wake him up but _no,_ this guy was down for the count. She didn’t even have to hit him and he still slept right through her getting up, tracking down a shower, going out for and bringing back food, and twenty pushups. She figured the pushups would wake him up on principle.

“Angel,” she sang, poking at his face. “I have a question.” He grunted and his eyes fluttered open for a second or two, which was good enough for her. “You got something besides beer somewhere?” He rolled over, reaching for a pack of water bottles and handing her one. She took it with a grin she wasn’t sure he saw and tossed back the pills she had in her hand.

“What’s that?” he asked, more awake than she’d figured him for.

“Estrogen,” she reported with the pills still on her tongue, twisting the cap off the bottle and downing half of it at once. Sex was thirsty work. “Got you something called the _Morning Moonsault_ from some food place down the road. I don’t know what’s in it but it had wrestling in the name so I figured it’d work.” He snorted and jammed it in his mouth as he hauled himself up and headed into the general direction of where she’d found his bathroom. She followed him, because she didn’t intend to hang around long. She had shit to do which involved actually going outside, and since Johnny was gone it meant she couldn’t call anyone up to be boss in her place for a day.

She watched him brush his teeth for a second, then brought it up. “Kinzie called earlier and said I have work to do. I have to go bully Killbane’s teenaged friends and field some bullets for our tech expert,” she explained, because even if it was a one night thing for him she didn’t wanna just drop him out of nowhere. It was fucking rude, for one, and for another he was one of her lieutenants which would make it rude _and_ irresponsible.

“Don’t underestimate Miller,” he said without looking.

“You’re talking about a kid in blue lipstick who can’t buy his own beer.” She leaned up against the doorframe and he straightened up from the sink to look at her. She grinned because he was driving her fucking nuts, but now it was something she could do something about.

“Don’t underestimate Miller,” he repeated. “He’s just as capable as Kinzie.” Fang faked shock as he approached her, letting him put an arm around her.

“I’m telling her you said that.”

“I’d be worried if any of the electronics in this place worked,” he returned, then leaned over. “Is kissing out of line now?” he asked and she shook her head. He was a good kisser, but seemed a little tense like he expected to get shoved off. His timing was great though, knowing just when to pull back for optimal annoyance. “If you get killed by a Decker, I’m telling everyone,” he told her just before she could pull him back down, letting her go and walking back into the hall.

“Oh fuck you, Angel,” she said, still following him even though it would make her late to meet Kinzie if she kept waiting around. “Your confidence is inspiring.”

“Have you seen my sweater?” he asked from inside his room. She was wearing it, actually, which meant he was probably less awake than she’d thought.

“Nope. Look, I gotta run, I’ll text you when I get a second so you know I lived,” she said, making a beeline for the door. She made good on that promise a few hours later, posing with a very put-out looking Kinzie by a burnt out Decker car and sending him the picture.

_Found your sweater ;P_

**Author's Note:**

> [My writing blog is here](http://nebulaad.tumblr.com) and it has writing. And screenshots and junk. Also this fic took for fucking ever because I've made it my business to purposely and explicitly avoid all sexual content but here it actually happened as a plot point so I'm like "sexy but also I'm not writing smut" so. I tried. Also I did a lot of research into estrogen and I'm not sure it paid off tbh.


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